Speculation

We could argue forever and a day about what you write after “if” because that is speculation and we don’t know for sure.

You’ve speculated. Now it’s my turn.

Why not a random woman with a gun? I’ve been trained to use a Smith & Wesson (all five foot two of me) here in Copenhagen and trained by an Israeli army mercenary in London. (It sounds much more exciting than it is)

My mom had a shotgun in our house when my father was “away”.

That day was already here in the ‘60’s when I was growing up. A mother alone in the country with her seven children. We were prey. Three days after a prison break 150 miles away, in the 70’s, an unshaven man showed up at our house. He was dark-haired and wiry. He asked for food. He said he hadn’t eaten for days.

My mom sat him down in the kitchen and fed him, with all of us milling around as the evening sun shone through his hair from behind him. As I peer into the absurd and deceitful lens of memory, he looked like Jesus. She must have sensed that he wasn’t violent. He was dark, quiet, mannerly and HUNGRY. I watched him as he reached for another piece of bread. He wolfed down his food.

I have read an SAS manual on how to survive in the wild. (Okay, okay, I leafed through it when I took it down from Prussian Blue’s shelf)

You would clearly be very surprised how well many women would survive in this lawless scenario.

I, for one, am very optimistic.

I am ready to march across Europe if I have to.

I am ready to do a lot of stuff if I have to.

Don’t ask me to kill anything, though. My mother slit the throat of the Christmas turkey that she won playing cards one year.

Cool as a breeze.

I never looked at her in quite the same way ever again.

I feel dismayed that you have so little faith in the ability of women to look after ourselves.